Cooking Up Love (13 page)

Chapter 22

T
abby dragged her suitcase out of the restaurant and onto the sidewalk. Jobless again, yet this time her heart leaped in anticipation of what lay down the road. In her hand, she clutched a first-class ticket to San Francisco, California. Harvey contract fulfilled, she was now free to act on what she truly believed to be God’s will for her. Hopefully, it wasn’t too late, and Adam would be overjoyed to see her.

Within minutes, two of the restaurant’s kitchen staff came outside and toted her trunk and bag to the train depot. Miss O’Connor stood at the door and waved a white handkerchief, her eyes red with tears. Tabby returned her wave, pleased that the woman promised she’d find no one of Tabby’s caliber to replace her.

Well, if things didn’t work out in San Francisco, Tabby might very well have to return to Topeka. She carried an unsigned contract in her bag, just in case Adam rejected her and she needed to console herself with work. She prayed not. Every night since her lonely vigil in church she’d shed tears over letting him get away. Only what she perceived as God’s promise kept her going until her contract was up.

Now, the sun warmed her face despite a brisk fall breeze, a blue sky overhead promised a bright future, and the whistle of the arriving train announced a glorious adventure ahead. In Tabby’s bag were the white boots and blue dress, what she hoped would be her wedding clothes.

The train whooshed to a stop, blowing Tabby’s skirts. She’d come full circle. Six months ago, she’d stood on another platform and waited for a train that would lead her to the next chapter of her life. Now, another, better one waited. One where Tabby would embrace love offered and not shove it away in fear.

God had opened her heart, her mind and her future with endless possibilities.

“All aboard!” The conductor cupped his mouth, then held down a hand to assist Tabby in boarding. “Enjoy your trip, ma’am.”

“Thank you.” Sweeping aside her new blue-and-white-striped traveling costume, she made her way to her first-class seat. This time the pleasure of being waited on hand and foot, having a nice bunk to sleep in, none of it would come as a surprise, but rather a blessing from God who looked out for all her needs. Even the ones she herself was unaware of.

The journey into God’s loving arms had been a long, hard one, but she’d made it. She couldn’t wait to tell Adam the news.

The train chugged from the station. Tabby clasped her hands in her lap. Her leg jerked up and down like a butter churn. How would she ever survive the journey? Oh, she wished she could fly.

She stilled. What if Adam rejected her? It’d been over thirty days since he left. She’d wounded him dreadfully. Most likely, he carried that hurt deep inside and would spurn her. She clutched the lace at her throat. She had to at least try.

“Coffee or tea?” The server, wearing a uniform very similar to the ones left hanging in Tabby’s former room, wheeled a silver cart with a teapot and cups.

“Tea, please.” Tabby waited to be served, then turned back to the window. Why must the train move so slowly?

She leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the window and remembered the first train ride when Adam came to her rescue against another man’s unwelcome advances. He’d pretended to be her husband. How she wished, now, that he were.

At dinner, Tabby picked at her roast chicken and potatoes. Her mind whirled with the thought that Adam might no longer want her. She had no one to blame but herself. Surely, California had a multitude of jobs for a hardworking girl. She sipped her lukewarm coffee. But she no longer wanted a career, unless it was helping Adam in his restaurant.

The train jerked, brakes screeching, and came to a stop. Coffee splashed onto Tabby’s new clean shirtwaist. She grabbed her napkin and dabbed at the stain.

Men ran down the aisle and shouts rang through the open windows at the front of the car. Spilled coffee forgotten, Tabby knelt on the seat and lowered her window to peer out. Men milled around the track. Were they being robbed? She fiddled with the lace at her throat. She’d heard nightmarish tales of train robbers. There’d be little sleep that night.

After what seemed an hour but was more likely thirty minutes with no news, she made her way through the car and to the metal deck outside. A curse reached her ears followed by the whack of an ax. The moon played hide-and-seek, making the commotion at the front of the train impossible to make out.

Having heard no gunshots, she determined it wasn’t a robbery. How she wanted to go see what had happened. Surely, if the train jumped the track she would have felt more than a jerk.

Since there didn’t seem to be any immediate danger, she headed down the stairs, thankful she’d dawdled over dinner instead of heading to her cabin. The long train ride didn’t provide a lot of excitement.

“Please stay back, ma’am.” The conductor tried to usher her back to the train.

“I have a desperate need to stretch my legs.” Tabby craned her neck.

“You may do so in the cars.”

“No, I don’t think so, although I do appreciate your concern.” What was going on in front of the train?

A shrill whistle drew the conductor’s attention, and he jogged away.

It wasn’t easy trying to walk with stealth on pebbles, but Tabby hitched her skirts and did her best. She stepped in front of the train and gasped at the sight of an overturned wagon. Her head whipped back and forth. Where were the people?

She grabbed the arm of a man in striped coveralls. “Where is the wagon’s driver? The horse?”

“We’ve cut the horse free, ma’am, and dragged him to the bushes. There was no driver.”

“Praise God.” Oh, the poor horse, apparently so frightened he’d bolted onto the tracks and in front of the train. At least no one else was injured or worse. “How long until we are on our way?”

“Not for several hours. You’d best head back to the train. We’ll do our best to get moving, but there are steps to take. The wagon is in pieces for one thing. Might take a while to clear the pieces away.”

Tabby’s shoulders slumped. At this rate, it would take forever to reach San Francisco. Adam would definitely have forgotten about her.

* * *

Adam put the last coat of varnish on the restaurant’s sign and stepped back to admire his handiwork. Foster’s Eatery. Sure had a nice ring to it, in his opinion. They ought to be ready to open in a week. He sighed and set the stained rag next to its pail.

Maybe a day spent at the beach would lift his morale, clear his thoughts. Anything to get Tabby out of his head. Over a month, and she still occupied most of his thoughts. When would his love for her fade, the ache in his heart lessen?

“Stop being so melancholy,” Ma told him. She dried her weathered hands on a faded apron. “I told you she would come, and we have too much work to do for you to stare off into the wild blue yonder.”

He sighed. “It’s been over a month. Her contract expired a week ago.” Using a hammer, he pounded the lid onto the metal can of varnish. “She chose her job over me.”

Ma reached up and smacked the back of his head. “Are you calling me a liar? I said she would come, and she will. I told you what she said in the mercantile. That woman is as smitten as you are, although I’m thinking she might be a bit smarter.”

“You were nicer when you were sick.” Adam laughed and popped her with the rag.

“I love you, son.” Ma cupped his cheek. “Be patient. God has a new wife for you, and I believe Tabitha is the one. You are a lucky man to have two such loves in your lifetime.”

Adam kissed her cheek. “No, Pa is the lucky one. He’s had his whole life with just you.”

Her cheeks pinked. “Tabitha loves you. She said so herself, and she is as far from Marilyn as possible. Which, of course, is a good thing, so you can’t compare the two. You were married such a short time. You have many, many years ahead of you.”

“How did you get so wise?” He forced the question past a tortured throat. Comparison wasn’t a thing he’d considered, but his mother made a good point. At the age of twenty-five, he and Tabby had many years ahead of them. If she showed up.

“A lot of living.” Ma gave his face another pat, then headed into the storeroom at the back of the restaurant.

Adam smiled and shook his head. She was completely convinced that Tabby would show up on their doorstep someday and profess her love. Well, he’d given up on the idea. It was time to move forward, and that meant getting the restaurant up and running. Which wouldn’t happen if he continued standing around daydreaming.

“Afternoon, son.” Pa carried in a bag of wheat and propped it in the corner. “Got a wagonload of supplies if you’ve got a minute.” Already the worry of the farm had lessened from his shoulders and the lines on his face were less pronounced. Adam thanked God every day for the opportunity to own the restaurant and live with fresh ocean breezes.

“I’m ahead of schedule.” Adam stashed the pail behind the counter that would serve as a lunch bar in a few days. “I’ve more than a few minutes to spare.”

“Daphne’s working on some posters to hire help. Ought to have them complete by morning. That red paint you wanted for the front door came in today,” Pa said, handing a bucket to Adam. “Don’t know why you want a red door, but it’s fine with me.”

“I want to be able to make the place easy to find.” They could tell potential customers they were the red door on Market Street.

They worked until night fell and the light faded too much for them to see. After promising his family he’d be home soon, Adam perched on the top step of the restaurant’s recently built back stoop, his arm around Twister. The dog was a poor substitute for Tabby.

Why had he built something he knew would hurt him? Rubbing his hand over the wood, he winced as a splinter sank itself into his finger. Building the stoop made him feel closer to Tabby. He could see the look on her face when he showed it to her.

She’d remember the conversations and closeness they’d shared. He treasured even the precious moments when they barely spoke a word.

Clouds dissipated, allowing the moon to shine a path across the lawn. What he wouldn’t give to see Tabby run along that silver path and throw herself into his arms. He was a poetic fool, waiting for someone who most likely chose to stay away. Tabby seemed too afraid to trust anyone. But he’d prayed that she could learn to trust him.

He’d laid his heart before her and God. He’d given her over to his Lord. Yet here he sat, feeling like an old man whose life was on a downward slope. If Ma could read his thoughts, she’d try taking a switch to his behind, no matter his age.

Chuckling, he picked up a stick and drew squiggles in the dirt. A train whistle blew off in the distance. Such a mournful sound. For two days last week, he’d actually been dumb enough to stand on the train platform to surprise Tabby when she got off.

Maybe Ma heard her wrong, that day at the mercantile. Daphne hadn’t heard Tabby say she loved him, but she said she’d been engrossed in some pearl buttons. He groaned and tossed the stick for Twister to fetch.

He stiffened. He’d drawn a heart in the dirt with “Adam loves Tabby” written inside.

He should have drawn it as a broken heart.

Chapter 23

T
abby stuffed her nightgown into her bag. Next stop, San Francisco. Her heart threatened to burst through her corset and layers of cotton. What if she’d made the long trip in vain? Having Adam reject her after all this time made more sense than him welcoming her with open arms.
God, please, let him still love me.

The train lurched. She lost her footing, slammed her hip into the wall and dropped her bag. Wonderful. She could limp her way through San Francisco. She knelt to retrieve the bag. The train came to a stop. Her head did the same, against the steel foundation of her bunk. She prayed the rest of her time in California wouldn’t be as painful.

With a deep breath, she straightened, luggage in hand, and made her way to the platform to wait for her trunk. She’d have to wait until she could store it, when all she wanted was to search for Adam. She stood, foot tapping, and watched as families reunited with loved ones.

Maybe she should have taken the chance on a telegram. Then Adam could have met her, or not. But she would have known then, the moment she stepped from the train, instead of still wondering about her reception.

She stepped aside as a man barreled past her and swept a woman into his arms. She sighed, blinked away tears and moved into the train station office.

Approaching the ticket agent, she opened her reticule. “I need to store my trunk for a day or two.”

The man peered at her over wire spectacles. “It’ll cost you a dollar. Your name on the trunk?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Write down your name and a description of the trunk. We’ll hold on to it for three days. That’s Wednesday, don’t forget.”

“I won’t. Please watch it carefully. It contains my wedding clothes.” Tabby peeled a dollar off the small roll of cash, filled out the required information, then handed him the paper and money. “Thank you. I’m looking for a restaurant.”

“Lady, there’s lots of them.”

“Owned by a man named Adam Foster.”
Please say you know him.

“Sure, I know him. His place is on Market Street. Has a red door. You can’t miss it.” He looked over her shoulder at the next person in line. Tabby’s cue to leave.

“Thank you.” She rushed from the station and to a waiting buggy for hire. Getting to her destination as quickly as possible would make the use of precious funds worth the expense. She climbed into the buggy. “Market Street, please.”

The driver, a wizened dark-skinned man with hunched shoulders, nodded. “Any particular place?”

“Foster’s?”

“Right away.” He clicked to the horse, and then ambled away from the train.

Tabby settled back against the hard wood of the seat. Her breathing increased to the point she feared she’d pass out and fall under the horse’s hooves. She made it. Within minutes, she’d look upon Adam’s face.

What would she see? Regret? Dislike? Happiness? Her hands trembled in the folds of her skirt.

By the time the buggy stopped in front of a storefront that displayed a grand sign saying Foster’s Eatery, she’d worked herself into quite a dither. She paid the man and climbed from her seat without waiting for his assistance. She heard a rip as her skirt caught on something, but instead of slowing, she yanked the new traveling costume free and dashed for the bright red door.

Closed? Of course. Adam wouldn’t have his business open on a Sunday. Her shoulders slumped.

A paper tacked beside the door caught her attention. Help Wanted. She snatched the page to her chest. She’d approach Adam about the job. Tomorrow. He would have to see her then.

In the meantime, she’d wander the streets in search of a place to spend the night. If restaurants abounded, so must hotels. Preferably one by the ocean. She’d always wanted to see the sea.

Refusing to let the setback deter her or stomp her spirit, she set off at a brisk pace in the direction she thought to be west. Ignoring the glances and occasional whistles due a woman traveling alone, she marched as fast as her skirts would allow until she faced the lapping shore.

A salt-filled breeze caressed her face. She breathed deep of the clean air, closed her eyes, and listened to one of the most beautiful sounds God ever created. Oh, why hadn’t she made the trip before? All her complaining about wanting adventure, and she’d never before faced such a marvelous sight.

Her feet suddenly felt too confined in her shoes. She sat on the sand and removed them, even being so daring as to remove her stockings. Shoes and stockings in hand, she raced to the water’s edge. The water kissed her tired toes and washed away the stress of the day and the worries of tomorrow.

Wonderful. She shaded her eyes with one hand and gazed across the silvery blue expanse kissed by diamonds scattered by the sun. What she wouldn’t give to sit there on a cool evening with Adam’s arms around her to keep her warm. The moon would replace the sun and provide a backdrop more romantic than anything she could imagine.

She turned and headed down the beach, keeping her feet on the cool sand, splashed by waves. What did it matter if her dress was ruined? She’d bought it with Adam in mind. It was already too mussed and stained to wear another day.

A few yards away, a man sat cross-legged in the sand and leaned back on tanned arms. The wind mussed his dark blond hair. Singing drifted down the sand.

Tabby’s heart stopped.

* * *

Adam closed his eyes, spending his morning in God’s love, rejoicing in His promises. His family had yet to find a new church home, so the beach gave him a place to worship with no one around but him and God.

He softly sang the lyrics to “Amazing Grace,” sending the words out to sea and up to heaven. The restaurant opened tomorrow, and he sang his praises to the One who let his dream come true. At least one of them. Well, he wouldn’t complain. He’d known Tabby’s feelings from the very beginning.

God held it all in His hands. Marilyn’s death, selling the farm, the restaurant and Tabby’s choice for her life. While Adam’s heart had healing to do, he’d made peace with her decision.

A wave came farther than before and soaked him. He shivered but didn’t move. Ma was used to him coming home with salt-stiffened clothes.

“Red’s my favorite color.”

“Is it?” She came! Adam clenched his hands together and kept his gaze focused on the rolling waves.

Tabby lowered herself beside him and wrapped her arms around her knees. A sheet of paper fluttered from one hand. “I’ve come to apply for the job.”

Adam fought to keep from grinning. “I’m afraid I’ll have to interview you.”

“I’m ready.”

The words seeped into his heart, filling the empty space. “Proceed. Tell me about yourself.”

She took a deep breath. “My name is Tabitha McClelland, and I’m a fool. I’ve been a lost child my entire life, and I’m looking for my home. Will you help me find it?”

He turned so fast he almost fell over. He grabbed her empty hand. “It’s right here.” He placed her hand over his heart. “It’s always been right here. There’s only one job I want for you. Will you accept it?”

“If it’s the position as Mrs. Adam Foster, I’ll accept it gladly.” Her eyes shimmered with tears.

Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her close, pulling them both to a standing position and tucking her head under his chin. “No more gladly than I offer. What took you so long to come? I’d almost given up hope.”

“I had to fulfill my contract. I’ve never quit anything in my life, except for almost letting you get away.” She shuddered. “I met the wisest woman in the mercantile the day you left who told me life was short and to buy the boots.”

“Boots?” What in the world was she talking about?

“The most beautiful pair of white boots in the world. After she left, and I realized you’d left, I sat in church for hours and talked to God. I came to terms with my father, Adam. He was one man. One poor, misguided, ill and sinful man. And my mother was just as weak. I almost followed in her footsteps. We are nothing like them.” Her arms snaked around his waist. “Will you kiss me?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He tilted her face to his and placed his lips on hers. He kissed her until she sagged against his chest, and his legs threatened to give way.

Relinquishing his hold on her precious lips, he pulled an arm’s length away. “I’m tired of waiting. I want to marry you now. Tomorrow, at the latest. Will you come meet my family?” He motioned his head toward a white cottage on the horizon. “We’ve rented a house by the shore. Marry me here, in this spot.”

“Oh, Adam.” Her tears increased, turning into sobs. “How can you forgive me for my stupidity?”

“I can forgive you anything.” He wiped away her tears. “Let’s go.”

“I look such a mess. My dress is ruined, my feet are bare, and my face must be red.”

“You’re beautiful.” He kissed her again. “I think you’ll be barefoot a lot while we’re here. This is our new spot. No more back stoops.”

She grinned and placed her hand in his. “Most definitely, Mr. Foster.”

Hand in hand, they made their way to the house where Ma already stood, hand shading her eyes, on the porch. He should have known she would notice the presence of a young woman on the beach. If the smile on her face was any indication, she also knew who the lady was.

“My dear.” Ma dashed to greet them. “Did you buy the boots?”

Tabby nodded. “I plan to wear them tomorrow.”

Ma cried and pulled her close, leaving Adam feeling suddenly alone. “Excuse me, but she will be my bride.”

“And my second daughter.” Ma slapped his arm. “You behave and go warn your pa. We don’t want him having a heart attack when you walk in with your news.”

Adam shook his head, placed a kiss on the top of Ma’s head and pushed through the door. Tabby was in good hands. But only for a moment. He intended to steal her back in seconds and never let her go again. “Pa, I’m getting married.”

“About time, son.” Pa came from the parlor. “Overdue, I’d say.” He clapped a hand on Adam’s shoulder. “I assume it’s with the wind-tossed lovely on the porch with Ma?”

“That’s the one. We’re getting married on the beach tomorrow at this time.”

Pa nodded. “I’ll fetch a preacher. Don’t worry. All you have to do is show up.”

Adam had no intentions of doing anything else. He didn’t know where Daphne had been hiding but if her shriek was any indication, she’d joined the bevy of females on the back porch. Life couldn’t be grander. Adam wanted to fall to his knees and thank God for his blessings. But that would have to wait. First, he wanted to kiss his bride-to-be some more and right now, the crowd was too large to suit him.

“Okay, Ma, Daphne,” he called, joining the women. “Let me have her back. We’ve things to discuss. Go get your best dresses ready. There’s a wedding tomorrow.”

Ma cried louder, Daphne hugged Tabby and Adam grabbed Tabby’s hand. “Let’s run while we can.”

They dashed back across the sand, scattering shoes, stockings and whatever else Tabby had kept in her hands. They stopped at the water’s edge and Adam pulled her back into his arms.

They had a lot of kissing to make up.